An entertaining work of fiction by K.L. White
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KLWhite writes ...
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"It was a very cold and dark evening as I settled in to not do too much after a day at work. I’d grown tired of big city life and moved back to my roots in northern Cold State with few Trees and evening came not too long after the work day ended. The television was on for background noise and my laptop was open and alert on my legs when my wife’s dear voice rang through to my ears.

“Honey, it’s Jerry, from down the street, can you come?” Well, of course you do, don’t you? You stop what you’re doing and go see what’s on their mind, that’s neighborly. I untangled myself from my laptop and went into the kitchen, taking my coffee cup with me. Why the heck had he come to the back door? Maybe he was chasing his dog again, that’s as far as I got when his voice met me. “Evenin’. I hate to bother you right now, but there’s a do going on at the diner, and we’d like you to be there if you can. We kind of discuss town related matters over a cup of coffee.”

“A Do, huh? well, sure, I wasn't doing anything too important, I’m up if you’re buying!” I said it with good cheer and didn't really expect anyone to pay for my coffee, but the way his eyes drew down to slits at the suggestion and the panicked look that came over his face should have warned me. It didn't, he croaked out a terse “The meetin’s dutch, I’ll see you there.” He left, presumably to get to his car and I gave my wife a look as she helpfully handed me my coat and a warm hat. “Have fun!” she said and the look in her eye made me grin. “Yeah, I’ll bet I do at that. Do I have to?” I kind of whined and she shoved me out the door. “Go on, you dragged me here from the city, now you go take care of the small town things you went on and on about before we did this! GO!”

Off I went, the diner was about a five minute walk from our place and the air was crisp, so I walked and enjoyed it, late Autumn is so cool. Opening the door to the diner, I felt a sort of sinking feeling in my gut as every head in the place turned to look at me. What was going on? Dirk Madhews was at the head of the tables and he fixed me with a glare that would have felled a lesser man. All the tables had been shoved together to form an impromptu conference board and Mary, the evening waitress, was putting down water and pouring coffee, taking orders as she went. Apparently some of the guys here for the meeting were still hungry. I snorted, apparently some of those guys were always hungry. I took a seat at the very end of the thing, the polar opposite to Dirk and nodded hello as Mary filled my cup. Harry Cancel’s voice rose up over the general hubbub as I stirred sugar and cream into my coffee. Harry was Dirk’s right hand for all that he was a very simple soul.

“Mary, could you give us some privacy, this is a meeting of the Men’s club. It ain't ‘propriate you listening in on that.” He said it so matter of factly that my ears perked up, what was this? Mary’s ears didn't perk up, she didn't even look at him as she hung the ticket for his Chimichanga Extra hot, Extra Large on the stainless wheel before Amanda, the night cook. They both snorted. “Forget it Harry, you know, you can fold your men’s club many times until it’s all corners and you can shove it right up your-“

Miguel, the owner of the diner, a guy with whom I and many of those around the table had gone to school with, spoke up hurriedly, cutting Mary off. “Not unless you want to serve all these people, Harry, and this is still MY diner, the only one within twenty miles, so stow that stuff in the bilge!” Miguel had served in our Navy, he was thousands of miles away from any water deep enough to float a battleship and he had a sign that said “Bilge” over the door to his cellar. It takes all kinds, indeed it does.

“Alright, alright, it’s just that we need to discuss some sensitive subjects, that’s all, and we don’t need this gettin’ out!” Amanda smirked, I couldn't see it but I could hear it in her voice as she yelled out of the kitchen “You mean you don’t want your wives finding out what kind of stupid shi-”

DING DING DING!!!

Rang through the room as Dirk pounded on his water glass with a butter knife and a vengeance. I thought he was going to break it, actually, but the stout silica cylinder survived until he finally bellowed. “Quiet down now, quiet down. This meeting of the Men’s club is called to order!” Mary finished pouring drinks and retreated to a booth on the other side of the diner where she started rolling silverware into paper napkins while she waited to serve the food Amanda was cooking. I looked at Dirk and stated the obvious. “I never joined any Men’s club.”

Chad Barns, one of the local dairy farmers who I remember as having been a pretty fair basketball player, answered that “You ain't gotta join, you’re born into it.” Jason McGargle, who’d always been the class cut up, chortled and added “Yeah, you kinda came with the right equipment.” I chuckled a little but sat back, watching warily as the proceedings got under way. Harry’s chimi was slid under his nose, he had to lean forward to eat it because of the massive gut between him and the table, but soon enough sounds strangely reminiscent of a pork farm at slop time came from his direction- and not much else. Have you ever seen a black hole at work? It’s kind of like that when Harry eats.

Dirk drew himself up into an officious posture and addressed his next words to me, directly. “We have met because there is an allegation being made against you. If the allegation is true, if we do not act to stop your nefarious actions, the very nature and character of our town, yes, even our very nation could be severely changed for the worse!” By the time he was finished, Dirk was breathing hard and the light of a true fanatic was shining out of his eyes. I sipped my coffee as other male heads nodded up and down in agreement with the zealot, but I had to know, I just had to, so I swallowed my coffee and asked. “Alright, I’ll bite- Dirk, what’s my crime?”

I swear by the Mother, the whole place dropped into silence, he put both elbows on the table and leaned toward me over the almost white table cloth. I felt transfixed by that righteous glare, even Harry stopped eating for a long, pregnant moment.

“It has come to our attention, sir, that you do the dishes!”

Game set and match, I was a traitor to the whole male side of the race! It got a little wild after that, I started laughing, partly because of the absurdity of it all but also because I heard Mary burst out with a guffaw behind me. Risking a look away from Dirk’s florid face, I could see her leaning back in the booth she’d been sitting in, laughing uproariously and stomping her feet on the floor. Miguel was shaking his head and took refuge in the bilge just as Harry, apparently caught up in the moment inhaled when he should have gasped. A largish bit of sliced jalapeno was pulled into his nose and he began wheezin and thumping on the table furiously. Several of the men I’d grown up with began slapping him on his Carhartt covered back in an effort to dislodge the pepper and they started getting a pretty funky rhythm going.

I decided to answer the charges. “L’audace, l’audace, toujours l’audace.” I figured. “Guilty as charged Dirk, guilty as charged, why, I even vacuumed the place this weekend.” There were gasps all around as the prosecutor seized on my admission of guilt. “That’s woman’s work! What if the other women see you doing that? What about the precedent you’re setting. What if they try to get US to do that? Do you want everyone to think you’re effeminate?”

Miguel came back up out of the bilge carrying potatoes that would need peeling for tomorrow, commenting as he walked through the room “He’s six feet two inches and came back from two wars, do you really think he’s effeminate!” Well, I had to rebut that and did, saying “I don’t care what people think Dirk, that’s always been your problem.” Mary dropped a peanut butter cinnamon roll in front of me and I saw Amanda giving me a thumbs up as I dug in. You don’t turn down one of her peanut butter cinnamon rolls especially when it’s free. Apparently, I’d become something of a hero. Dirk was speaking as I was chewing.

“We can’t have it, we just cannot allow this kind of stuff to take hold in our community! Next thing we know, you’ll tell us you’re a democrat! We have to nip this in the bud and send a message.” Jack the carpenter took that moment to speak up “Hey, I’m a democrat!” and I heard quite as few me too’s! from the assembled men, but Dirk was on a roll, he wouldn't be stopped now.

“As chairman of the Men’s club, I move that you be forever removed from our rolls, censured, and shunned” Marty spoke up at that. “Hold on now, I work with him, plus I like him, I ain’t shunning him cuz you say so!” and Harry, of all people, wiped his nose and just let it all hang out, he stood up and intoned loudly.

“Hi, my name is Harry and I’ve done the dishes, and, errrrm, I made my wife a cup of tea- several times” Then the chimichanga grabbed his attention again but he gave me a smile as he sat back down and I sent him a grateful look. He used to copy off of me in school and I let him, we were tight- but, who’da thunk it, eh?

“I accept, Dirk, I’m not a member of your Men’s Club. Now, was that all, because I have to get up early tomorrow and I want to get home and fold some laundry?” I shrugged into my coat as Jerry gave me a tight grin, he was probably still wondering if he’d have to fork over a dollar for my coffee. Mary was using a dish towel to fan Dirk’s red face and if glares could kill, I’d be needing a coroner. Miguel wouldn't let me pay for my coffee, he’d said something about the most fun he’d had in years and let me go, wishing me a good evening. Amanda followed me out of the door so she could smoke a cigarette on her break.

“Is this normal, now? it wasn't like this when I left was it?” I asked her as the smell of tobacco burning touched my nostrils through the frigid air. Amanda took a big drag and thought about that, exhaled and answered me. “Yeah it was, it just wasn't this blatant. It’s been worse the last few years, though, ever since that orange guy got elected, but I think they’ll get over it. They’re trying desperately to hang onto a world that doesn't exist any more. They’ll figure it out sooner or later. Don’t let it get to you, they’re still the people you used to know.” I gave her a hug, mumbled “Thanks Grandma” and laughed as her words followed me on my way home. “You’re welcome, Dishy!” I chuckled thinking, watch that stick as my nickname. As I went into the house and told my wife of the goings on, laughed with her over it all, I decided that there were worse things to be than in life than kicked out of the Men’s club and The Man They Called Dishy. I laughed a little to myself about that, looked at my wife where she was smiling and helped her fold the laundry."

I used to help with the dishes until my wife told me I shouldn't bother because I'm not doing it right.

My crime was two-fold:

--I wasn't thoroughly washing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher (I thought washing dishes was the dishwasher's job), and

--I didn't make maximum use of the space when cramming the dishwasher full of dishes (I thought I was leaving space around the dishes to take full advantage of the water spray).

He didn't like how I loaded the dishwasher, but it was STILL my job. Nothing like someone fixing how YOU LOADED THE DISHWASHER. There were many things I quit doing because he always corrected me like mowing the lawn. I did it to help him out. I had 2 babies to take care of.

Now we live in the same house. He does his dishes by hand. I use my dishwasher I bought. My boyfriend immediately thought that I should be the one to unload every time when I moved in with him. BUT we are to load every time we use a dish, but he would rearrange what I put in. At my house now, he never puts his in the dishwasher. I do all the dishes pretty much. I won't go into the dishwasher wars any longer.

My dad didn't do dishes very often, but he bought himself a bar stool once his knees got bad and started doing them a lot more often when he was retired. My dad was a "man's man"--looked just like John Wayne. Was a farmer.

You were the dishwasher.

Much like how my Dad had to finally buy a snow blower and lawn mower to replace me after I moved out.

The short story reminded me of The Man's Prayer at Possum Lodge on the Red Green Show.
"I'm a man, but I can change, If I have to, I guess."

Prewashing dishes always seemed weird to me. Burnt on food in casserole dishes, baked on cheese, and dried egg yolk should be soaked and prewashed. Everything else dishwashers ought to be able to handle.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 05/08/2019 07:27PM by Brother Of Jerry.

Funny story,Dave. Thanks! Makes me glad to be single and only deal with my own dishes and do the dishwasher any old way!